There is no foothold here in these miry depths; clawed fingers scraping flesh from bone. Frantic laughter bubbling throughout. Voice strained from screaming, parched and shrill. With each breath comes an influx of my waste. Beasts sovereign; circling, searching for their feast. Their mouths foaming, sensing blood in the dirty water. It’s the primal craving which prevails disgust. But how did I get here? The first of oh so many questions. Delayed are the angel’s melodies, ensnared in this bog. But this place is familiar. The sites, the sounds, the face of the beast. Breathing mirrors reflecting me, I share in their needs. The absence of love, abundance of filth. Left to consider the familiarity of my despair. Deprived innocence, I am deserving of this place. Entitlement, I have what I’ve chosen. The virgin weeping, blackened eyes dripping contempt. Actions and disgraces, I have many faces here. The frowning masks of the tragedy, many faces here.... With one final glare my head slips under the mud. I reach, still finding nothing which I can grab to reach the surface again. Dimming into dark is the heart that fades away, I sink into the darkest deep. Finally I give in to the hands touch, embracing what they say. I submit to the nightmare of the mire, finding solace in the choice to fall into breathing depths...depths...depths.... There is no foothold here in these miry depths; clawed fingers scraping flesh from bone. Frantic laughter bubbling throughout. Voice strained from screaming, parched and shrill.

3. Venom Eye (4:22)

An open eye, awakened cold on a path of ruin that once was gold. Black mountains blocking the sun. Enveloped in decay what’s devoid of life, the land is barren stone. Tonight, the shadows are screaming discourse. But you can see it in the eyes, the onyx stones. I cannot fail, and embrace the world I aimed to change. A garden looms ahead of rocky soil, with spirits swirling in a dance. There is inherant mystery in a stone unturned. Serpents feign their sleeping, covered. The sound of weeping grants relief from the sting, a method ringing. Hesitation in engaging pursuit. The eye glows red, the action ensues. Coated in mold, lungs resonate the sounds of the mire. Behold the transformation alive behind these eyes. In the moment there’s a time for reflection, to bathe in the pressing instants conviction. I’ve come to terms with the very real change within the tombs, the climate anew. Coated in mold, lungs resonate the sounds of the mire. Behold the transformation alive behind these eyes. [guitar solo] There’s ash within the rain, falling with autumn tears. The lanterns of the night burning sulfur eyes, halting glaciers freeze. The embers dance the stars, fusing of worlds... worlds once apart. An open eye, awakened cold on a path of ruin that once was gold. Black mountains blocking the sun. Enveloped in decay what’s devoid of life, the land is barren stone. Tonight, the shadows are screaming discourse. But you can see it in the eyes, the onyx stones. I cannot fail, and embrace the world I aimed to change. A garden looms ahead of rocky soil, with spirits swirling in a dance. There is inherant mystery in a stone unturned. Serpents feign their sleeping, covered. In the somber dusk revealed is the shadow’s scheme, silencing reason.

4. Tempting the Wretch (4:25)

Heeding the call of my resilient foe, absorbing the sound of the melodies silent. All of my dreams turning scarlet, my screams startling allies in the pale of the moon. I’m contemplating what I’ve seen; the bright of the morning that survived the night. Dreams remembered in fragments. Shards of glass reflect...shards of glass reflecting the pale of the moon. In the pale of the moon, I dance amongst damned. This dance of the dead, the melodies guiding me, playing unheard, dead in the pale of the suffering moon. With this revelation, I feel even more at the brink of risk. These things in the darkness that I cannot see nor resist. Dancing with fire, resting in the ash that coats my skin. Brings me to life again. Awaken screaming in the darkest of the night. The fire heats the sky, lifting me into a conscious nightmare. Revealing that the windows still in tact, the murals not defiled, the window to the soul has not been broken. Warmth outstanding candlelight, the flicker on the wall; a better sense of the apathy in the corner of the room. The door creaks, barely heard as I shiver in my skin. The candle dancing violent now as if it somehow has heard. This is vengeance, this is beauty somehow defiled. This is the culmination of...their desire to enter me. What I’ve seen, how quickly white fades to gray within what fathers the wiles of the devil. A farce of this dark memory, the wiles of the devil, the wiles of the devil. Heeding the call, now I’m a flurry spinning about the room. The glass cutting into my feet as I embrace the fall into the floor. Descend, remember, the sound of the whisper in your ear...your ear. Now I’m a flurry spinning about the room. The glass cutting into my feet. As I embrace the fall it crumbles away. Descend, remember, the sound of the whisper in your ear. I stare at the walls alive, moving about to a beat I must resist. Refusing every advance, slipping hopeful back to sleep. My eyes shut, I sense the cold, with whispers in my ear.

5. Threnody (6:27)

Singing woe to me and my crimson needs, the shallow waters warm quickly in the sun. What a process to undivine. The season that refuses life... In the depths of the furthest reach there’s a hall to be found where the portraits scream. Each reflecting the memory of a soul I’ve laid to waste. A red lantern sparks a fire towards a doorway down the hall. Stepping into darkest keep, lungs constrict the chance to breathe. The air is thick with threnody, a grief ridden hymn. As I grasp for a comets tail, a chance for passage forth, I fail, with the venus’ captivating glory out of reach. When the stars I see fail to show me what I seek, the collapsing nova’s flare shows space is breathing. The brightest of the cosmos sons can’t luminate the day. As the sun that sets allows their reign, with power to take away. There is a heart of all which beats brilliantly, unobscured. There is a heart of all which beats brilliantly, unobscured... Tumultuous pause in time, as a great void reinstates the growing sense of urgency. A pause in time, this black hole reveals the cunning taunt of lunacy. Oh... Pause in time, as the great voice reinstates the sense of lunacy. This is when vision fails, once silent apparition. This is when vision fails, hiding in awe. This humbled hand won’t be renounced or slapped aside, but this forged confession will be denied. This humbled hand won’t be renounced or slapped aside, but this confession will be denied tonight... This is when vision fails, once silent apparition. This is when vision fails, hiding in awe... This humbled hand won’t be renounced, this forged confession will be denied (denied... denied...).

6. Bloodsmear (4:39)

Crashing of thunder, considering the light of the moon. Displaying barren pastures, the reach of my sight is weak. Gathering the pieces, the remains from the flood. Seeking shelter in the shadow of the rising sun. With dawn comes a new race, a race for shelter. A place to hide from the rays of truth that stripe my skin. Go... Placing of hope in the last setting star, a tree providing shade. Rotten fruit extends temptation grand, limb by limb I ascend. My joints grow weary, I work to please the vacant crevice of my mind. There is work to be done tonight, the knowledge that comes with fear, the fallacy, stating that the time has come. A body burning. Gnashing teeth removing excess flesh in bulk, as the fruit is poisoned. I feel it hardening in my veins, calloused, crystallizing blood. Turns to tar, slowing down my heart, the steady rhythm fading. The crack of timber underneath, falling from the top of this diseased tree. Deeper, deeper towards the dirt, the branches scratching and bruising my skin. But they would say this inspiration is the key. There’s a burn in every heart. The brazen forces invading the fortress keep reduce the odds and leave the children to weep. This drop of blood smears the world, restores to beating the hearts once stone. The birth of spring defeats the cold, devouring autumn’s fall. But they would say this inspiration is the key. There’s a burn in every heart. The brazen forces invading the fortress keep reduce the odds and leave the children to weep. This drop of blood smears the world, restores to beating the hearts once stone. The birth of spring defeats the cold, devouring autumn’s fall.

7. The Venus Orbit (3:34)

8. Lightning Over Atlantis (4:24)

Pushing forth, chasing fantasies that justify euphoric dreams. Seeking better than I have ever seen. The pristine city in the crystal sea where the faultless dwell. There is a storm descending, in a not so perfect world, not so perfect after all. There is a storm descending, in a not so perfect world, not so perfect after all. Here they are! People screaming as the towers crumble down. Romance stifling is the storm. Lightning overhead displaying what we’ll never control. Is this the best that they have found? Perfection within the walls that crumbled down? Is this the best that they have found? Perfection within the walls that crumbled down? With need to suffer, the need for despair to break down the common bond between the man and this ancient earth. The search for our own perfect son. Lightning strikes the clock at the center of the town just as the Isle of Atlas invaded. With each strike the elders wince, their faults exposed to a swarm of angry nomads. So the scholars moved to say, that this city can’t fall... The scholars moved to say, that this city can’t fall into hell.... If this was the perfect land, the depravity I’ve viewed within can’t bridge the gap to justify my actions in this journey. A storm reveals the hell that dwells within a faulted pretense. Hearing from the heart... Hearing from the heart of a broken perfect man, claiming the buildings were constructed on the sand. And the land was never fertile, the walkways never gold, his eyes slipping away. Is this the best that they have found? Perfection within the walls that crumbled down? Is this the best that they have found? Perfection within the walls that crumbled down?

9. Singing the Surrender (3:58)

Revolving doors, the words unspoken. The walls alive, their stories ringing litmus true. Valor of the soldier questioned in a time of war. Now the jury leaves, expressing righteous dignity, scratching planks within their eyes. Without even a moment their deliberation ends, a momentary judgment of a sick and dying man. Escaping through an iron door, the boulders coming faster now. The healing hands of saints surrender, as they see the head that glows disdain. The looks of disappointment stain the once opaque within these walls. They bring the stones to shatter the scenes, making flaccid sculptures form. Mere fragments remain. The gospel’s wondrous beauty now in pieces on the floor with the demons running rampant in the eyes of unforgiving sons. Without hesitation there is need for retreat, the walls are crumbling down. When they see me leave, they soak the bridge in gasoline, and we descend together.

10. Descendit Ad Inferos (The Harrowing of Hell) (3:56)

Freefall into black chambers, I can hear the weeping choir. I land at the gate exhausted and pained. He leaves me behind, and I view through the open door the multitudes of those in eternal gloom. I see their faces strained in utmost fear staring into those fiery eyes. How did he find me? I look around in curiosity ’til I see footprints in the sand, running next to a trail of tears. He came to the gateway, taking my place. Heard me crying desparation. The screaming of demons inside of the fire unleash upon those that will house them. Beasts turning vocal exploding the screams, a battle that’s already won. But they will find that the brightest of fires cannot blot out the burn of the Son. Aware of the efforts they pose being in vain, their anger explained. He appears in the doorway, with something under His arm, a bag overflowing with sacrifice I could never fully comprehend. No need to escape by my own strength, as I am carried away. Flight towards the heavens, with Venus in mind, strength of a second chance.... The screaming of demons inside of the fire unleash upon those that will house them. Beasts turning vocal exploding the screams, a battle that’s already won. But they will find that the brightest of fires cannot blot out the burn of the Son. Aware of the efforts they pose being in vain, their anger explained... I look in His eyes with tears in my own, as He drops it in the ocean, never to be seen again.